


We Will Carry the Weight Together

by cap_and_cyborg



Series: What We Do For Family [2]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Booker Only Turns In Himself, Booker | Sebastien le Livre Needs Therapy, Cooking, F/F, Found Family, Implied/Referenced Torture, Joe in the Iron Maiden, M/M, Minor Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Quynh | Noriko, POV Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Recovery, Role Reversal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:28:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27459481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cap_and_cyborg/pseuds/cap_and_cyborg
Summary: After Yusuf was taken from him and thrown into the ocean, Nicolo searched for centuries to find him until he dreamt of a new immortal.  Sebastien helps him find Yusuf and they start to heal together.  When Booker turns himself in to Merrick for experimentation, Nicky and the others band together to save him.Companion to "For Family," but can be read on its own.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: What We Do For Family [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2006230
Comments: 8
Kudos: 166





	We Will Carry the Weight Together

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by a comment from Lennox_Crewe on "For Family." It begins with the same story, then diverges off.

Nicolò de Genova was asleep and because he was sleeping, he was dreaming of Yusuf.

Some nights, his mind was kind to him and he dreamt of Yusuf’s smiles, the feel of his fingers going through Nicolò’s hair, his body lying close to his own. Those dreams were difficult to wake from, as he would wake alone.

Other nights, he was not so lucky.

He saw their final moments before they were separated. He would see Yusuf’s wide eyes, him struggling against the hands pulling him away, his screams declaring his love. And all Nicolò could scream back was his love’s name.

It was difficult to remember those moments. Those mornings, Nicolò awoke cursing himself, wishing for the millionth time he had at least said those words back. Nicolò had Yusuf’s declaration echoing in his mind, even after centuries.

Yusuf was alone out there in the dark ocean with nothing but screams.

Nicolò knew immediately when something changed, because he started dreaming of someone other than Yusuf. He saw the man fight, saw him leave the battlefield, saw him hang. Gasped to awakening as the man gasped back to life.

There was another immortal. 

He might see Yusuf in his dreams.

Immediately, Nicolò pulled up anchor and angled his boat towards shore.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Sebastien le Livre looked like a man who needed rest. It wasn’t difficult to convince him to go back to sleep. Nicolò settled into the main room with Andy and Quynh and half listened to the tales of what they had been doing since they had last met, while focusing on the bedroom and any noises that may come from it.

He didn’t have to wait long.

There was a rustle followed by the sound of someone losing the contents of their stomach. All three immortals rushed to the bedroom.

One look at Sebastien and Nicolò knew what had made him ill.

“You saw Yusuf, didn’t you,” Nicolò said, but he wasn’t truly asking. Andy glanced up at Nicolò as she cleaned the floor, then exited the room, taking the soiled cloth with her. Nicolò had eyes only for Sebastien, who stared at him, then nodded. 

“He was with you… You both died so many times. Then…”

He didn’t need to go on. Both men knew what had come next.

“He was taken from me. I’ve been looking ever since,” Nicolò told him.

“When was that?” Sebastien asked.

It hurt Nicolò to say. “1614.”

“Over two hundred years?! He’s been down there for - oh God,” Sebastien said, looking ill once more.

Desperation welled in Nicolò’s stomach. “Please, is there anything you can tell me from the dream? You saw him, yes, but what was around him? Try to remember,” he said, trying to keep his tone soft. He knew he was asking much of this man, but Sebastien was experiencing a fraction of the torment Yusuf was. If he could give Nicolò any clue to where Yusuf might be, both their suffering could end.

Sebastien closed his eyes as he spoke. “The coffin was covered in rust. The chains as well. It was dark and cold and -” he broke off, shuddering.

Nicolò felt the crushing weight of disappointment bear down upon him. He couldn’t bear to make the man in front of him see how disheartened he was at the lack of information and dropped his head to hide his face.

A moment later, he gathered himself.

“Let’s get you some tea,” Nicolò said, standing.

Nicolò was struck with a pang of affection for Andy and Quynh when they got to the kitchen. Tea was waiting for them on the table, alcohol added to Sebastien’s mug. They all collapsed into their chairs.

“He saw Yusuf,” Quynh said.

Nicolò nodded, then let out a breath, putting his head in his hands. He closed his eyes and saw his love in his mind’s eye, smiling, screaming, smiling, screaming.

_ “Nicolò, Nicolò, I love you! My love! Nicolò!” _

“At the very least,” he said, his voice muffled as he spoke towards the floor, “we know he is still alive.”

Andy nodded. “For now, that is enough.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


Nicolò hated to stop searching for Yusuf to sleep, let alone for weeks at a time. He tried not to think of how many more times Yusuf died as he was eating with the others, sparring with Quynh, getting to know Sebastien. But he needed to know if Sebastien could give him any clue as to where Yusuf could be. He continued to dream of Yusuf, but didn’t have any useful details to help Nicolò’s search. Nicolò himself slept sparingly.

Then one morning, the day before Nicolò planned to return to his boat, Sebastien burst into the kitchen where Nicolò had been whittling, a manic look in his eyes.

“What is it? Is it Yusuf? Does he live?” Nicolò asked, standing.

Sebastien crossed to him, grinning widely, and clasped Nicolò’s hands between his own. “Nicolò, I felt him breathe.”

Nicolò didn’t understand.

“I felt him breathe  _ air, _ ” Sebastien clarified.

Nicolò blinked. Once. Twice. Then his eyes widened as the significance hit him. Air. Yusuf had breathed  _ air. _

“He is out?” he asked, unable to believe it.

“I felt the moment his head broke the surface. I felt his first free breath. He is out of that cage. He is free,” Sebastien said, his eyes wet.

“ _ Santa Maria, Madre di Dio, _ ” Nicolò whispered, his own eyes welling with tears.

_ Yusuf was out. _

He pulled Sebastien into him, not caring that they were more acquaintances than friends, let alone family. This man had just given the best gift he could be given: the confirmation that his love was on his way back to him. Because now that Yusuf was free, there was no way they wouldn’t find their way back to each other.

He felt a hand on his back and turned to see Andy and Quynh through his tears, concern and fear in their eyes.

“He is out, he is free,” Nicolò sobbed. Quynh’s face crumpled and she cried out as she threw her arms around him. Andy breathed deeply in, maybe for the first time since she had heard of Yusuf’s fate, before she joined their embrace.

They pulled back to look at each other, smiling through their tears.

Sebastien grabbed glasses and a bottle of wine from the kitchen, filling them.

“A toast,” he said, handing them around. “To Yusuf’s freedom!”

Nicolò lifted his glass and gave a silent toast before he drank.

_ To seeing Yusuf again. _

  
  


* * *

  
  


The next few days were an exercise of patience and agony. When Sebastien finally saw where Yusuf was on land, Nicolò was already packed and ready to leave. Luckily, the others were as well. They pushed the horses hard before trading them for fresh ones, never stopping their journey.

It was nighttime when they arrived at the village Yusuf had found. Nicolò’s heart was pounding harder than the horses’ hooves as they approached the farmhouse Sebastien had seen in his dreams.

He was there.

Yusuf.

The small fire illuminated his features and Nicolò scanned each part of him, trying to see if he had misremembered anything over the centuries apart but no, those were his eyes, his smile, his figure as he stood. He was gaunter, his cheeks somewhat sunken, but he was  _ there. _

A noise emerged from Nicolò’s chest that encapsulated all the love and fear he had felt these last two hundred years, as well as the ecstasy of seeing his love again. He reined in his horse and jumped off before he sprinted towards Yusuf. His arms reached before him, desperate to feel Yusuf within them. 

There was that grin again.

Then Yusuf was running too, arms outstretched.

They crashed back together.

Finally, Yusuf was in his arms.  _ Him, _ his smell, his beard tickling Nicolò’s neck, his body, thin as it might be. Nicolò felt suddenly lighter than he had been in two hundred years, holding Yusuf to his chest.

He also could not stop crying.

“Nicolò,  _ amore mio, habibi,  _ I knew you’d find me,” he heard Yusuf say as he pulled him impossibly close.

Nicolò nodded into Yusuf’s neck, unable to speak yet. 

Yusuf whispered to him, switching from one language to the next. “ _ Ya amar, _ I knew we would be reunited again. Thoughts of you kept me sane, knowing you would never stop looking for me. I am here,  _ amore mio,  _ breathe. I am back where I belong.”

Nicolò remembered he had something to say. The words he had been waiting to say for over two hundred years. He pulled back enough to see Yusuf’s beautiful brown eyes, the laugh lines that never faded, even after centuries of death.

“I love you,” he declared. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it then.”

It wasn’t the grandest declaration of love he had given Yusuf. But in its simplicity lay its truth.

“Oh,  _ ya hayati, _ ” Yusuf said. He gathered Nicolò close to his chest once more and Nicolò focused on the heartbeats he could feel in time with his own. “You may not have said the words then, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t hear them. They are engraved into my heart, my very soul. I was never without them.”

Yusuf turned towards the others, greeting them in turn, but at all times, kept hold of Nicolò’s hand. Nicolò could feel the tremors there, the only sign that Yusuf wasn’t as okay as he was pretending to be as he hugged and talked to the others.

It was only when he stepped back into Nicolò's chest and Nicolò wrapped his arms around his waist that the tremors stopped. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Yusuf had continued to show the others a version of himself that was fine. But Nicolò had felt how tightly Yusuf had held him while trying to sleep and had felt him startle awake, sitting straight up in their bed as he gasped for breath. Some nights, after Nicolò held him for a while, he could get back to sleep. Other times, they would get up together, even though Yusuf protested that Nicolò could sleep, and spent the time before the others awoke alone with one another. They would talk. They would be silent. They would hold each other. They would be close by.

They took it day by day, but Nicolò knew that Yusuf needed more to begin to heal from his experience.

So they left. Where they were didn’t matter, only that they were together.

They walked around the cottage the team had used as a haven a few times before. Nicolò reacquainted himself with the small space as Yusuf saw it for the first time. They ate, talking little. Night fell and still, Yusuf didn’t let down his guard, even though it was only Nicolò around.

Nicolò could stand it no longer. He went to where Yusuf was sitting, drawing absentmindedly on the page. Upside down, Nicolò was almost certain he recognized his own eyebrow. He held out a hand, which Yusuf immediately took and rose until they were chest to chest. Nicolò stroked a hand down the side of Yusuf’s face, reveling in the contrast of soft skin and curled beard. 

“We are alone now, _ habib albi, _ ” he said, making eye contact so Yusuf would understand him. “You don’t have to hide from me.”

Yusuf froze where he stood. “Nicolò… it is too much. I cannot put that weight upon you.”

“ _ Amore mio, _ every day without you weighed me down. Now we are together? That heaviness is gone. I would gladly take some of the weight of your anguish.” 

Nicolò held both of Yusuf’s hands in his own and brought them to his lips. “Yusuf, you don’t have to carry it alone. I am here. I love you. And we will get through this together.”

And so Yusuf told him. He spoke of the dark and the water invading his lungs. Of the cold. Of how he held on to his memories of Nicolò when he gasped awake and held him in his heart as he died. Tears fell unheeded down his cheeks and into his beard, but Nicolò kissed them away, holding him close.

One day, Nicolò hoped that his love’s agony would be a distant memory. For now, his heart broke in the face of Yusuf’s torment, but kept murmuring reassurances that  _ they were together, he loved Yusuf so much, they would face this together. _

Finally, Yusuf stopped speaking. His head lowered to rest on Nicolò’s shoulder as he sighed. 

“What can I do for you,  _ amore mio _ ?” Nicolò asked.

Yusuf let out another deep, shuddering sigh, then looked up at him with red, puffy eyes. “Bed?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

Nicolò nodded and pulled them to their feet. Once there, he paused, then lifted Yusuf under his legs. Yusuf’s arms came around his shoulders and his legs around his waist. Nicolò carried him towards the bedroom, laying him gently on the bed and following him down. He moved to turn his back to Yusuf, to get into their normal sleeping position, but Yusuf tightened his hold.

“Like this tonight?” he whispered.

“Of course.”

Legs intertwined, arms around one another, breaths intermingling, they slept.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


It took time, but slowly, the scars from the centuries under the sea started to fade.

The only problem was the bath.

Being surrounded by water was still difficult for Yusuf, so he had many standing baths, cleaning himself with a rag without submerging himself into the water.

After months of this, Nicolò turned to Yusuf when he announced he needed to clean himself. “Can we try something?”

“Of course, _ ya hayati, _ what?”

Nicolò filled the tub with hot water and stripped. He got in and backed up until his back was pressed against the side of the tub. He opened his legs and held out a hand.

“Take your time, please. But… join me?” he requested.

Yusuf did not have to face this alone.

Yusuf swallowed, but nodded. He took off his clothes much slower than Nicolò had, nervousness staying his hand. Nicolò took in every inch of him, still unbelieving at times that Yusuf was here, in front of him, looking at him with love in his eyes.

He took Nicolò’s hand, still held out for him, and squeezed.

One foot in. A deep breath. The other foot followed. Nicolò’s free hand ran up and down one of Yusuf’s legs, grounding him and letting him know he was right there. He was not in that cold ocean. He was in Nicolò’s arms, safe and warm.

Yusuf nodded decisively and knelt in the water, facing Nicolò.

“You are doing so well,  _ habib albi,  _ I am so proud of every step you are taking,” Nicolò crooned, pulling Yusuf close until their foreheads pressed together.

Yusuf let out a shaky breath but loosened his grip on Nicolò’s hand.

“You are magnificent, Yusuf,” Nicolò murmured.

He continued to whisper encouragement and praise as Yusuf slowly relaxed into his chest. Until Yusuf was sitting in the water with him, back to his chest, head leaning back onto his shoulder, eyes closed as he sank into Nicolò embrace.

“It turns out all I needed to bathe was to be in the arms of my love,” Yusuf said, peace and contentment radiating from every inch of him.

It helped ease an ache inside Nicolò as well.

“As I have said,” he murmured, turning his head to kiss Yusuf’s neck from its base to his jawline, “I will help you take the weight of your burdens. It is a privilege to hold you and help you at the same time.”

Yusuf smiled. It was as if a beam of sunshine was given human form. No ocean could extinguish his glow.

They sat together, resting in the warm water, for a long time. As the water cooled, Nicolò grabbed the soap and started to clean his love. Yusuf’s eyes stayed close and contentment oozed from every pore. 

“Alright, my love, would you like to dry off and warm the bed for me? I won’t be more than a moment,” Nicolò murmured in Yusuf’s ear after he rinsed him of suds.

Yusuf chuckled softly. “I will gladly save you from the horror of cold sheets.” He sat up from where he had sprawled against Nicolò’s chest and pressed a kiss under his jaw. Nicolò shivered, goosebumps rising over his body, but he wasn’t cold. 

Pulling back, Yusuf looked at him and smiled, a wicked look in his eyes. “Perhaps you should hold off washing just yet. I believe we will have to clean ourselves up soon enough.”

He was mostly right.

Many hours later, on new, clean sheets with freshly cleaned bodies, Yusuf turned to Nicolò with a pensive look on his face. “I think after some time here with you, I would like to see the world I have been away from. So much time has passed, many things must have changed.” His eyes widened. “Nicolò, I have missed so much art! There must have been at least two art movements in my time away! What if one of them was to be my masterpiece?”

Nicolò laughed until he gave a small snort. “ _ Amore mio _ , I will pay for tutors of all the art movements you missed so you may see if they are worthy of your talent. We can go to museums and galleries.” He pulled Yusuf close and kissed his cheeks, his forehead, his lips. 

“We are together. We have time,” he whispered.

Yusuf kissed him back, soft and sweet. Pulling back, he smiled at Nicolò. “If the new movements cannot render you onto canvas as well as they should, you can fire the tutors.”

“Deal.”

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


They spent a century together, travelling to places new and old to them. Once they arrived in Malta, it took them a long time to leave. But leave they did, to be reunited with their fellow immortals. It was a pleasure to be amongst them again. Booker was not how Nicolò remembered him, but then, Nicolò was not the same either.

Throughout the years, they helped people and became closer, a unit. A family. Joe and Booker became close friends. In fact, he was one of the few people in the group who could pull a laugh out of Booker, even in his surliest mood. But in the moments when Booker was quietest, it wasn’t Joe who went to him. It was Nicky.

So how had Nicky not seen this coming?

The newest immortal, Nile, jerked awake the first night of being with them with a gasp of pain. Before she even opened her mouth, Nicky felt a sense of dread. He had been here before, in a different place and as a different man. He had to reach behind him, to make sure that Joe was still there. 

“What did you see?” Quynh asked from where she was lying next to Andy.

Taking gulping breaths, Nile said disjointedly, “A man. He was tied down. They were… they took samples of him.” She shuddered. “They didn’t care that he was screaming.”

Andy looked around the room, making eye contact with each of her fellow immortals. Nicky didn’t know what was showing on his face, but he felt sick. Joe took hold of the hand still resting on his thigh.

“What did he look like?” Joe asked.

Nile closed her eyes, thinking. “Tall, his feet are hanging off the exam bed. Wide shoulders. His eyes are squeezed shut against the pain, I couldn’t see them. Blonde.” She looked around. “Do you know him?”

Andy got up and grabbed real clothes and her ax.

“Someone has Booker.”

The words were a blow, even though Nicky already knew. But Booker was supposed to be in France. He was supposed to be drinking wine and looking out at The Seine. He was supposed to be  _ safe _ .

Someone had his brother. Was torturing and experimenting on him. And as Nicky looked around the room, he saw the same anger and bloodlust in Joe, Quynh, and Andy’s eyes as he felt himself.

“We have to get him back.”

“Do you know where he is? Any way of tracking him?” Nile asked.

Andy shrugged. “He has a phone. Can you work with that?”

Nile swallowed, then nodded. “Yeah. I can make that work.”

The phone didn’t lead them to Booker. It led them to James Copley. Fortunately, he told them where Booker was.

Andy and her ax were persuasive like that.

Nile asked them to stop as they drove and Andy pulled over on the country road they were driving down.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” she muttered, looking down at the gun in her lap. “I don’t know if I want to  _ be  _ this.”

The older immortals exchanged looks.

“If you need to not accompany us on this mission, we understand, Nile,” Nicky said softly. “But if I may say, Booker would be the best of us for you right now. He is the youngest. Our first lives are far back in time for us, some more than others,” he said, nodding to Andy and Quynh. “He is the newest. He still remembers the family and the life he lost. I believe he is the one who could help you most through this. So you do not have to fight. But please, once we have saved Booker, talk to him. I hope he can help.”

Nile swallowed, then nodded.

In the end, she followed them into Merrick Pharmaceuticals, gun in hand. Together, they were a small army, fighting to get to the missing member of their family.

Nicky didn’t feel settled until he set eyes on Booker. Even then, he felt ill at the sight of dried blood and the straps over his chest, arms, and legs. 

“Booker!” he burst out, relief and fear echoing in his name.

“No! No, you cannot be here!” Booker said frantically. “They cannot know of you!”

The words both broke and warmed Nicky’s heart. Throughout the events that led to all that blood, Booker had not told his captors of his immortal family’s existence.

“Too bad, we weren’t going to just leave you here, as they did  _ that _ to you,” Nile said and Nicky remembered that she knew just how Booker had gotten bloodied. She had  _ felt _ it.

“You shouldn’t have come,” Booker said sadly.

“What are you talking about?” Joe said, stepping away from Nicky’s side and starting to undo the clasps of the bindings on Booker’s arm. “Of course we would come for you. They were torturing you, Booker.”

“No, Joe, leave them,” Booker insisted.

Joe stopped and stepped back, staring at Booker in confusion.

“Booker…” Andy said, considering him in concern.

Nicky watched as a small, bitter smile graced Booker’s lips. “I’m sorry. This wasn’t a mission that required a rescue.”

“What are you saying, Booker?” Quynh asked.

Nicky saw Andy shake her head, staring at Booker in horror. “No.” 

Booker shrugged, the movement confined due to the strap across his chest. “Merrick might know how to end this. I had to try.”

“You  _ signed up for this?! _ ” Joe exclaimed, gesturing to Booker’s body and Nicky felt as if he had been dunked in cold water as he also understood.

Booker hadn’t been captured. He allowed this to happen. He  _ wanted  _ this to happen.

Giving a hollow laugh, Booker said, “To be fair, I didn’t anticipate how ruthless Merrick would be to get results.”

“This is insanity,” Quynh said softly, stepping forward and resting a hand on his ankle. “Booker, a final death is not worth this.”

“I just…” And Nicky finally saw it. He saw as the weight of existence when a part of you felt empty, already dead, started to smother his friend. Had it always been so bad? Had Booker always looked so weighed down? And how had Nicky not seen it?

“ _ I just want to be with them again,”  _ Booker whispered, the words forced from some broken part inside him.

Nicky knew, because he had once had a similar broken place inside himself.

“Could you give us a minute?” Nicky asked the group. They nodded, moving away, and Nicky turned to his brother who was staring at the ceiling, tears in his eyes. He walked to his side.

“Booker, look at me,  _ s’il te plait _ ,” he murmured.

Booker’s eye didn’t waver from the ceiling.

“Sebastien. Please.”

At that, Booker turned to look at him. The pain in his eyes almost knocked Nicky flat.

“I am sorry,” he said. “I didn’t see how much you were suffering.”

“Nicky…” Booker said, trying to look away.

“No, please. Hear me,” Nicky continued, and Booker met his gaze again. Nicky braced himself against the memories as he kept talking. “When I lost Yusuf, it felt like each breath was an effort. Existing was just something I continued to do in order to one day see him again. Yes, I had Andy and Quynh and eventually you, but I felt… heavy. Existence had a weight to it.”

Nicky knew Booker understood as he nodded.

“I know it isn’t a fair comparison,” Nicky continued. “I got Yusuf back. Your family is lost to you until you pass on. But Booker,” he said, clasping one of Booker’s hands in both of his, hoping the conviction in his voice and strength in his grip would be enough, “know this: we will always be here for you. We will take the weight as much as we can. And we will stay here with you until you get to the point that it doesn’t hurt as much to exist.”

“That may take forever,” Booker said and it sounded like a warning.

Nicky smiled, undeterred. “Luckily, we have time.”

Nicky let his hand hover over one of Booker’s restraints. He raised an eyebrow at him.

Booker looked across the room to where the others stood. He closed his eyes and first grimaced, then his face relaxed.

Opening his eyes, he looked up at Nicky.

“Let’s go, then.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


Nicky pushed into the safe house, one of Booker’s arms pulled over his shoulder to keep him on his feet. The Frenchman tried to help him and Andy, who was on his other side, to get to the couch, but he could barely walk. As soon as his body hit the cushions, he let out a gust of air and slumped, all the ability to sit up gone from him.

His time at Merrick’s labs had obviously taken a lot out of him, especially if his body was still recovering. But Nicky thought of how long it took for the shadows to fade from Yusuf’s face, for him to fully fill out his clothes after his time in the iron maiden. It had taken time and love then.

Luckily, they had time and love to give now.

Quynh and Joe had the least amount of blood on them after their fight, so they had been elected to go get food and other necessities for the group. Booker dosed on the couch and Nicky and Andy watched over him as Nile went to the bathroom to start taking out her hair. 

Nicky looked after the youngest immortal with a new respect. She hadn’t wanted to be a killer, yet she had stood by her fellow immortals as they fought through Merrick’s men. Merrick had turned a gun on Booker as he slumped against the wall, spitting, “This is all your doing, you  _ fuck-” _

They would never know what he was going to say. Nile had tackled him out of the broken window behind him and had fallen with him all the way to the pavement below.

There was no way to salvage her braids with all the blood in them.

The door opened and Joe and Quynh entered, laden with bags. It looked like they had stopped at many shops, but they hadn’t been gone long.

Seeing the look on Nicky’s face, Joe smiled and said, “We divided and conquered. I got food and toiletries." He turned to Andy. "This bag has things for Nile. I read the labels, the hair products should be okay for her, but let me know if I need to run out again. There’s a body wash and a pack of washcloths in there as well.”

“I bought clothes,” Quynh added, passing one of the several bags she carried to her wife. “They should fit her.”

Andy nodded and left the room with the bags.

“Here’s yours and Joe’s,” Quynh said, giving Nicky two bags.

“ _ Grazie, chị ba, _ ” Nicky murmured, kissing her on the cheek. 

“I got stuff for a stew. Figured it would be good, filling.” Joe stared at Booker but he had a faraway look in his eyes.

“Will you help me?” Nicky asked him quietly and watched as Joe pulled his mind away from wherever it had gone and his eyes away from Booker.

“Of course,  _ habibi _ ,” he replied.

They got to the kitchen and put down the bags of food. Instead of turning to the stove, Nicky turned to Joe and held out his arms.

“Please-” was all he had to say, then his arms were filled with Joe.

Nicky let the feelings he had been carrying since he realized Booker had put himself into Merrick’s hands, so desperate to die he let himself be cut open and  _ wanted to stay there _ , break over him. He held Joe tightly as he shook, tears wetting the shoulder of Joe’s dirty shirt. 

He wasn’t alone in his despair. Joe gripped handfuls of Nicky’s ruined shirt as he too, let go.

Finally, they began to breathe easier. Their forehead came to rest together.

“How did we not see?” Nicky murmured.

“We saw how much he let us see. How much we wanted to see,” Joe said.

“Those are not the same.”

“I know,  _ ya hayati _ . I know.”

More breathing.

Then with a sigh, Nicky kissed Joe’s temple and pulled away.

“Food, then.”

As the stew simmered, Joe and Nicky showered. There wasn’t much hot water left, not after Nile, then Booker, who had grumpily needed help from Andy, had showered. Nicky and Joe had heard his sleepy complaints from the kitchen as she pulled him towards the bathroom.

“I can fucking  _ shower, _ c’mon, Andy, ‘m  _ fine, _ ” he slurred, clearly not fine.

“Get your ass in that shower or so help me, I will knock you out and wash you before you wake,” Andy said, sounding exasperated. 

“But-”

“Let me help you, Book,” Andy said, her voice softer. “I’ve been doing a shit job of that.”

Booker didn’t have anything to say to that.

After, Andy pushed Joe and Nicky towards the bathroom, promising that she could look after the stew. 

Once they stepped into the tepid water, Nicky saw Joe shudder and immediately moved as a buffer between Joe and the spray. Already vulnerable, Joe needed no reminder of the dark, cold ocean today.

But Joe seemed determined to bring it up anyway.

“What did you say to Booker, that made him agree to come with us?” he asked Nicky quietly.

Nicky closed his eyes and let the spray push his hair into his face. Sighing, he reached for the shampoo so he would have an excuse not to look at Joe and have him see the well of emotion he was trying to hide. While they’d talked about Joe’s experience while in the iron coffin, Nicky tried to avoid speaking of what it was like for him during that time.

“That I understood,” he said finally. “That we would help him going forward.” 

“Of course we will.” Joe cupped Nicky’s jaw and gently pulled his face around until he could look him in the eye. “You don’t have to hide from me, Nicolò.”

“Yusuf…” Nicky couldn’t stop himself from leaning forward and kissing Joe’s lips, softly and slowly.

Joe pulled his lips away but rested his forehead against Nicky’s. “Tell me.”

Nicky closed his eyes and focused on Joe, his breath, his warmth, his touch. “When you were… gone, I lost a part of myself. In the place under my ribs where you once were, there was only a weight that constantly tried to pull me under. The only way I could go on was to continue searching for you.” Nicky swallowed, tears welling up in his eyes. “Booker doesn’t have anything to keep him from being pulled under, Joe. If this incident is any indication, I fear we are not enough.”

“Oh, my Nicolò.” Joe pulled him close, disregarding the chilling spray. “My love. My moon. My kind warrior. Just as you fought for me, we will fight for Booker. Together.”

Nicky nodded, unable to speak.

Finally, he cleared his throat. “We should clean up. The water is turning cold and Quynh and Andy still need to shower.”

Dinner started as a quiet affair. Booker barely had the energy to repeatedly lift his spoon, but glared anyone who tried to help him into retreat. Nile was glancing around uncertainly, her hair now pulled back in simple braids. Nicky could see that Andy and Quynh were constantly in contact across the table, a hand on Quynh’s thigh, an arm resting on Andy’s chair, a hand entwined in the other’s. Honestly, he and Joe weren’t much better.

They were lucky. They had the people who grounded them next to them.

Booker and Nile both seem untethered in comparison.

“Nile,” Nicky said, and her eyes flashed up to meet his, “what do you like to do for fun?”

“Oh, um. I like listening to music. Working out. When I was home, I did some art stuff, but there isn’t much time for that-”

“You are an artist?” Joe asked excitedly, the lines around his eyes crinkling in pleasure. Nicky smiled just seeing them.

“Kinda, yeah. In high school, my art teacher was really cool and showed us artists like Augusta Savage and Jacob Lawrence, Kara Walker and Kehinde Wiley. She really inspired me and I was thinking, once I was done with my tour, I would go to art school. But I guess… that’s not an option anymore…” she trailed off, looking down at her stew.

“You can still get the education you want, Nile,” Quynh said. “We all have many degrees amongst us. And while your military will no longer pay for your education, we have been alive for a very long time. We can help you pay for art school.”

“That- that’s too much, I can’t ask-”

“Nile,” Andy said, giving her a look that was somehow understanding and firm at the same time. “You are one of us. We take care of our own.”

Nicky glanced over at Booker, who had fallen asleep where he sat.

“Sometimes not as much as we should,” he murmured as he and Joe stood and got Booker into an actual bed.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Booker spent a lot of time recuperating on the couch as his body slowly recovered. Many times, someone would be sitting with him as he lay out, dosing in and out of consciousness. Joe frequently acted as his pillow, Booker’s head cushioned on either his thigh or his shoulder, and he would catch Booker up on what he had missed of the football game they had been watching when he next awoke. 

Nicky was busier in the kitchen than he could remember being in quite some time. He pulled out the heartiest meals in his memory and when he couldn’t remember a specific ingredient, he adapted. The others sometimes shoved him out of the kitchen, taking over for a meal. With their plethora of culinary memories, the meals they ate were as varied as their histories. One thing was constant: the meals they ate were filling, but not heavy. 

They did all they could to make sure no one would feel weighed down, by food or otherwise.

At night, there was always at least one member of their little immortal family in the room with Booker. Most nights, many of them crashed in the same room, on beds or blanket nests on the floor. Whenever Booker jerked awake from a nightmare, at least one person awoke with him. Some nights, he mumbled, “M’fine,” and quickly fell back asleep. Other nights, he couldn’t get back to sleep and someone got up and made tea. Many times, that someone was Nicky. They would watch the sunrise together, sometimes talking quietly, other times sitting in silence.

One memorable night, Booker awoke with tears in his eyes and his hand outstretched for someone who was no longer there to take it. Quynh took the initiative to crawl on top of him and curl up, falling asleep after sleepily stroking his hair off his forehead. Andy shook her head at her wife’s antics, smiling at Booker as he stared first at Quynh, then at Andy.

“You can push her off, if you want,” Andy said, shrugging.

Booker shook his head and wrapped his arms around Quynh. He let out a shaky exhale and closed his eyes, only to fall asleep moments later.

Their little immortal family had always been tactile. But after that, cuddling became a regular thing.

Throughout all of this, Nile had been part of the group, but a little distant from the older immortals. She would have a separate bed or settle in the arm chair away from the couch were the others congregated. Nicky kept an eye on her, but knew that she needed time to adjust. She and Nicky had a few late night talks when she couldn’t sleep about everything from immortality to religion to cooking. She and Joe had hit it off, talking art and drawing together sometimes. She and Andy sparred frequently and Quynh taught her how to use a sword and a bow and arrow. But Nile and Booker hadn’t interacted all that much comparatively. 

So it was surprising when one morning, he awoke and neither Booker nor Nile were in the room. Everyone else was still sleeping as Nicky slipped out of the room, Joe making a discontented snuffling noise as he moved into the warmed space Nicky had just vacated. Nicky crept down the hall towards the kitchen where he could hear low voices.

“-cause you’re the youngest. Well, except for me now, I guess. You know the most about technology, so it would be easier for you to sign up and do it.”

“I don’t know, Nile-”

“Look, you need therapy. I’m sorry, but no matter how much love everyone gives you, that won’t change the way your brain functions. You need to put in the work. If you don’t feel like you’re worth the effort, think of the others. They think you're worth it, so just do the damn online therapy.”

Silence. Nicky breathed quietly, not moving in the hall.

“What would I even tell the therapist?”

There was a rustle like Nile had shrugged. “The truth. Your family died and you were drunk and depressed and wanted to die. You made some dumb decisions. You want to feel better. That they can help with. Don’t know if they know how to approach the weight of immortality, so maybe don’t bring that up.”

“Yeah,” Booker said, letting out a soft laugh. “Maybe not.”

“And um. I’ll sign up too. Work through some of my stuff. I deserve to not be scared of going left.”

“Yeah, Nile. You do.”

Nicky emerged from the hall after a few moments of silence and made his way to the kitchen.  _ “Buongiorno, famiglia mia,”  _ he murmured, going towards the kitchen.

“Morning, Nicky,” Nile said from where she was sitting on the couch next to Booker.

Booker nodded to Nicky, a smile gracing his face.

“Have you eaten?” Nicky asked.

“No, not yet,” Nile replied. “There should be some coffee in the machine, if you want.”

“Thank you.”

He made two cups with what was left of the ready made coffee for Quynh and Andy, then started making another pot for himself and Joe. He pulled out eggs and vegetables and set about cooking breakfast. Today felt like a frittata day.

Andy and Quynh came into the kitchen looking awake even without coffee to invigorate them, though they gladly took the proffered cups Nicky handed them.

“No Joe yet?” Quynh asked, taking a gulp.

“He was still asleep when I left the bed,” Nicky said.

A mischievous look crossed Quynh’s face. “Not for long. Nile, help me out?”

Nile was up and across the kitchen in a flash. There were times that Nicky forgot she was a sister, that she had that sibling mischief about her. Now, he remembered.

Quynh set her coffee on the dining table and headed towards the bedrooms. “Let’s go.”

“You okay with this, Nicky?” Nile asked, looking over anxiously at him.

He snorted softly. “If my Joe hasn’t readied himself for one of Quynh’s attacks in all the centuries we have traveled together, he deserves whatever trick is up her sleeve. Go have fun.”

Permission granted, Nile’s grin widened and she and Quynh snuck down the hall.

“Incoming!” he heard them yell. The sound of two bodies landing on a bed and the groan of his husband reached him.

His and Booker’s eyes met and they smiled at each other as Joe’s groggy voice came down the hall, “’M awake, ‘m awake, leave me alone devil women…”

“Nope! Nicky is making frittatas and your coffee is getting cold, so you have to get up, get up, get up!” Quynh said, and that was definitely the sound of the bed bouncing up and down.

“Hgnnnnnnnnnnnnn,” Joe groaned.

“Don’t make me spatula you, Joe,” Nile said, her voice teasing.

“Wazzat?” he asked, curious.

“You asked.”

_ Thud. _

“Oh, I see,” Quynh said, sounding delighted as a new weapon was added to her mischief arsenal.

“Devil women,” Joe said again, voice muffled. Possibly by the floor.

Nile and Quynh walked back into the kitchen, laughing. Joe followed, wrapped in the blanket that had been on his and Nicky’s bed. He came up behind Nicky and leaned against his back as he cut up vegetables.

“I thought you were supposed to protect me from threats as I slept, Nicolò,” he muttered into the nape of his neck.

Nicky fought back a shiver. “Maybe I wanted you to join us by whatever methods necessary.”

“My very heart, a traitor,” Joe said mournfully, pressing a kiss into his skin.

“It is sad, but true.”

“They said something about coffee?”

Nicky passed Joe his cup. “It may need reheating.”

“Mmm…” Joe took a sip. “It’s fine. I like it here.”

_ “Bene,” _ Nicky murmured, turning his head until he could look at his husband. He leaned in and brushed a kiss against his lips. “I like you here, too.”

“I’d like it here even more with food. Any update on that?” Andy’s slightly exasperated voice said behind them.

“Can’t rush greatness, Andy,” Joe said, smiling.

Nicky nudged him, shaking his head. “Less than fifteen minutes, boss.”

Everyone converged on the dining table as soon as Nicky put the frittatas down. Quynh and Andy elbowed each other out of the way to get to the closest one and Booker carefully slid the second one toward Nile, who smiled gratefully at him.

“This one for us,  _ habibi _ ?” Joe asked, pulling the last one closer.

“Looks like,” Nicky replied, smiling at his family enjoying his food.

He leaned into Joe as they ate, reveling in the heat he exuded from his blanket cocoon. Looking around, he felt warmth in his chest as he took in his little improbable family. Andy and Quynh were trying to steal the last bites of their frittata off each other’s forks as Nile laughed. Booker was drinking coffee. His flask was nowhere to be seen, Nicky realized. Nile’s eyes no longer darted from one person to the next, unsure of her place at the table. Joe was halfway through chewing his food when he and Nicky’s eyes met and he grinned at him, cheeks full.

Nicky sent up a little thanks to God for giving him all of this. This family. These sisters, who were as fierce as they were loving. This second chance with Booker. This new, bright immortal to light up their immortality. This man, who was with Nicky as he grew past his prejudices, who had loved him from the battlefield to the bottom of the ocean to back in his arms.

This. All of it.

It was more than he could have ever imagined and he would be forever grateful.

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:  
> Santa Maria, Madre di Dio - Holy mother of God  
> amore mio - my love  
> habibi - my darling/my love  
> ya amar - my moon  
> ya hayati - my life  
> habib albi - love of my heart  
> s'il te plaît - please (informal)  
> grazie - thank you  
> chị ba - second oldest sister (I hope, I'm open to corrections!)  
> Buongiorno, famiglia mia - Good morning, my family  
> Bene - good
> 
> Thanks to igotofetchthesun for looking this over for me.


End file.
